


tumblr drabble dump

by taonsils (mirokkuma)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: AU, Blood, Canon, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Gen, Ghosts, Hybrids, M/M, OT3, Panic Attacks, Trapped In Elevator, powers au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 13,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3876412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirokkuma/pseuds/taonsils
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bunch of ask meme drabbles/ficlets from the last month or so. I'll dump any future ones here too~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Kiss me" baekhyun/chanyeol

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over @ taonsil on twitter and tumblr if you want to drop by (ᅌᴗᅌ* )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baekyun-and-eggs sent: baekyeol, 13 "kiss me"  
> (+sutaohun just because)

Chanyeol confesses to Baekhyun no more than ten minutes into their three hour journey. For a crush he’s been carefully nursing for almost a year it’s very unceremoniously done, but Jongdae finding out felt as though it put a timer on how long his (impressive, if he does say so himself) front could remain. Detonation felt imminent with Baekhyun and Jongdae sitting together in the front of the van with nothing to entertain themselves but talking.

It wasn’t ideal at all, blurting out to a full van every thought that’s kept Chanyeol awake at night and what gross twisty things his stomach does around Baekhyun. Sehun whistles. Zitao unwinds himself from Junmyeon for long enough to see Chanyeol first go deathly pale and then all at once colour from his collar bones to the tips of his ears when Baekhyun responds with a hearty laugh.

It takes the longest half hour of Chanyeol’s life for the subject to be dropped. He slopes down low, knees pressing into the back of Baekhyun’s seat, and twists his cap back around to pull down over his face as Zitao and Sehun make enthusiastic impressions of wedding bells.

Junmyeon gives his arm a pat, firm and reassuring. Chanyeol wishes it helped. Baekhyun is laughing so hard there’s moisture gathering in the outer edges of his eyes, and he may he contributing to _when Chanyeol and Baekhyun are gross husbands_  scenarios but he still hasn’t actually given Chanyeol a reply.

When the topic does eventually, thankfully move on, Chanyeol doesn’t join in. He instead feigns sleep for the rest of the journey, and it’s easy when he has so much reflecting on his poor decisions to do. From the sound of it Junmyeon gives Sehun a gentle smack when he points out that Chanyeol doesn’t normally grind his teeth like that when he’s  _really_  asleep. Chanyeol notes to respect Junmyeon’s authority a little more in future.

  

Filming goes relatively smoothly. The location is a refreshing change from the confines of a studio, remote enough for no one to bother them while they trek through woodland and walk the perimeter of the lake but not so remote that the camp site isn’t hotel quality. It’s basically a vacation.

Jongdae gleefully facetimes with the members left at the dorm who had this morning been more than pleased to stay in bed and not pile into a van before sunrise. It’s his idea to make use of the campfire as night falls, too. It’s already set up for the guests, and Jongdae complains on and off for twenty minutes that one of the staff stepped in to light it up while he was busily preparing snacks.

“Shame you didn’t bring your guitar,” Sehun says to Chanyeol as they leave the kitchenette with their hands full of junk food sneaked along for the trip. “You could have serenaded Baekhyun by the fire.”

 

It doesn’t go unnoticed that Chanyeol is off form as the evening progresses. Jongdae and Sehun are thankfully merciful in not pointing this out — the views, the privacy and the excitement of late night snacks around the fire are more than enough entertainment without Chanyeol’s misery being brought into it.

And he is miserable. Baekhyun has been perfectly pleasant with him all day, and that’s  _worse_. His feelings going unacknowledged feels, he imagines, ten times worse than if Baekhyun had actually had the decency to reject him. A rejection would mean closure, but Baekhyun’s arm easy around his waist when Baekhyun knows he’s been pining for  _months_  is just cruel. Baekhyun not hating him is a sort of consolation, in a knife to the heart kind of way.

Throughout the night Junmyeon makes valiant attempts at cheering Chanyeol up, offering him food, sympathetic smiles, firm pats to the back. Chanyeol stops smiling out of courtesy after the first half hour. It’s  _easy_  for him, Chanyeol thinks, because Zitao has never had any kind of restraint when it comes to expressing his feelings. Baekhyun is sitting the other side of them, just out of Chanyeol’s line of sight, and his stomach churns uncomfortably every time Zitao makes him laugh.

Chanyeol is so intently staring into the fire feeling sorry for himself that it’s not until Sehun swats at the back of his head in passing that he realises the benches around the fire have emptied out.

“It’s a full moon.” Sehun hauls Zitao up by his flailing hands while Baekhyun and Junmyeon give him an encouraging push. “We’re gonna go and look from the lake, you should come too.”

“Yeah,” Zitao agrees, bouncing on his toes when Junmyeon links an arm through his. Zitao looks disgustingly happy sandwiched between them. Chanyeol’s just as tall and twice as charming and he can’t even get  _one_  boyfriend.

“Yeah. Maybe. In a minute,” he says sourly. It’s not their fault they’re happy. Chanyeol was probably happy once.

He doesn’t have to watch to know when they’ve left — Zitao’s enthusiasm turns echoing and muffled instead of harsh. Chanyeol kicks at the dirt. He can’t feel like this forever — realistically he won’t feel like this forever, but he can make the most of moping tonight.

Or he would, but Baekhyun didn’t follow the happy threesome. Chanyeol realises when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. Baekhyun scooches into the unoccupied space on the bench and Chanyeol pretends very very hard not to notice.

“I wasn’t sure if you were ignoring me today,” Baekhyun starts. He leans down and around to try and meet Chanyeol’s eyes. Chanyeol blinks rapidly. “Because of what happened in the van earlier?”  

Chanyeol just shakes his head. If he speaks his heart might just cough straight up out of his throat and fall into Baekhyun’s lap. Which, that’d be pretty gross, but as gestures go pretty impressive. More impressive than blurting out  _I even think I kind of love how you drool in your sleep_  in front of everyone.

“I’ve had better confessions, if I’m honest.”

Chanyeol rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m sure. I just— Jongdae was going to tell you, I wanted you to hear it from me.”

Baekhyun quirks a brow. If Chanyeol thought Jongdae was going to do a  _worse_  job of it.. But luckily Baekhyun is quite fond of adorably useless things. Like penguins falling over, and Park Chanyeol trying to express his feelings under pressure. 

“Kiss me.” Baekhyun’s smile is mostly shadowed, but the hint of teeth glints and makes Chanyeol swallow hard. Chanyeol just looks at him, at the firelight reflected in his eyes. He’s not one to pass up opportunities, but this is— what is this? “Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says, demanding, “Kiss me. Right now.”

 

Jongdae and Baekhyun sit upfront again for the ride home. Chanyeol gets wedged in the corner, again, this time beside Zitao and his uncomfortably solid thighs. 

“Keep on your own damn side.” Chanyeol knees him, but he should have learnt after the first time who comes out of that the worst. Chanyeol huffs and turns to stare out of the window. 

Zitao may have more legroom, but Chanyeol is the most thoroughly kissed person in the van.


	2. "I didn't know you could sing." Kai/Chen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: KaiChen, 17 “I didn’t know you could sing." :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trapped in an elevator / panic attacks

“Just take deep breaths, we’ll be out of here soon.”

“How soon is soon?” Jongin folds his arms tight across his chest, squeezing, trying to draw himself in smaller to make the space around them feel larger. It’s alright for Jongdae; there’s nothing of him.

“Real soon, you heard the nice guy.” Jongdae gestures to the elevator panel where he’d just been making conversation with the emergency call button. Really nice guy that answered – at least he laughed at Jongdae’s jokes. Jongin hasn’t really looked in the mood since approximately two seconds after the elevator halted.

Jongin sucks his lower lip between his teeth and chews. The back of his neck is starting to prickle, and it’s taking increasingly deeper breaths to convince himself that it’s just sweat. This is only their second date and it’s taken months of pep talks from his sister to even get this far – the last thing he wants right now is a panic attack. “It feels like it’s been a long time.”

Jongdae gasps. “It feels like an eternity when I’m with you too– ok, ok,” he waves off Jongin’s withering look and leans back against the wall, hands shoved into his pockets. “The capacity is eight people,” Jongdae points out. “At least you only have to share with little old me.”

Just the thought of being in here at full capacity makes Jongin shudder. The cold, twisting warning sign of an attack is starting to coil up from his stomach and that rarely ends well. He doesn’t have any music with him. There’s nothing else to look at in here, no distance to stare off into. Jongin’s hands would reach almost flat-palmed from wall to wall and that is the  _worst_  thought right now.

Jongdae occupies himself with counting the ceiling tiles for a few seconds, giving Jongin a break from conversation. When he looks back Jongin certainly looks like he could do with something to think about other than the box they’re trapped in, though. “I don’t think I ever asked what kind of music you’re into,” Jongdae says to the wall opposite.

To his credit his concern is fronted as casually as could be. All kindness and no fear. Jongin bites harder into his lip as he shrugs. It’s not like he thinks Jongdae is a bad guy – far from it, but even people he’s been close to for a long time can get freaked out when they don’t like what’s happening. “I don’t know. Uhm.”

“How about that song that was playing on your ipod when I arrived? Is that a favourite?”

“Uh.” Not being able to answer is making Jongin feel even more closed in. He feels so hot under his clothes, to the roots of his hair and damp between his shoulder blades. Jongin hasn’t felt faint in a pretty long while, but he’s starting to wonder if telling Jongdae he needs to sit down would be a good move. But when he looks up Jongdae’s eyes are closed, and then he starts to sing.

 

“Do you need some water or anything? You looked really grim back there. I was getting kinda worried you’d faint or–”

“I didn’t know you could sing.” Jongin interrupts as firmly as his fluttering pulse will allow. “It was– I’ve never heard someone sing that nice in real life.”

“Ah, well.” Jongdae smiles and links their arms, “I’m full of nice surprises.”


	3. “You know, it’s okay to cry.” sehun/kai/suho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kingwufan sent: Hmmm.. Sekaiho “You know, it’s okay to cry.”

Supporting Sehun’s weight almost seems like it’s doing more harm than good from the way he hisses each time his left leg extends. With Junmyeon on one side and Jongin on the other it’s tilting him, straining his back where it already aches.

“Hyung,” Sehun groans when they get out of step. They still had three scenes to film; it wasn’t his fault the prop he stood on hadn’t been designed to take his weight, but it will be his fault if this delays them.

“Hyung,” Jongin echoes, ducking his head to look around Sehun’s chest to Junmyeon. “I think maybe we should stop and wait for the car.”

Sehun agrees, mostly just by squirming out of their hold and propping himself against the nearest wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he would say more if his throat wasn’t suddenly so tight. Everyone is tired. He’s tired, but now he’s going to get to go home while everyone compensates for his absence.

Junmyeon toes at the floor while Jongin texts to give different directions. Sehun stares down at his feet until Junmyeon tries to catch his eye and offer him a smile; he squeezes his eyes shut on a wave of pain and doesn’t open them again.

 

“Sehun,” Jongin leans an elbow against the wall, “You know,”

“Does this make it hurt?” Junmyeon butts in gently when he follows Jongin’s lead and then a step further, resting his chin at Sehun’s shoulder. Sehun shakes his head; they both close in a little more.

“It’s ok to cry,” Jongin says before a soft peck to the edge of his ear. Junmyeon nods beside them.

Sehun shakes his head again, and then he sniffs.


	4. "I can't let you do that" xiumin/lay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: 2. Xiulay "I can't let you do that"

Minseok wakes abruptly to the sound of a clatter to the floor. He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen asleep – it’s still dark outside, his empty tea mug is still between his hands. He can’t have been out for long.

“How long was I asleep for?” he asks before a wide yawn, but by the time he’s finished stretching and wiped the moisture from his eyes there’s still been no reply.

Besides Yixing’s desk he sees a pen on the floor - probably responsible for that noise. Yixing has made no effort to retrieve it, though, because Yixing’s face is buried between his folded arms on the desk.

  
“I’m just,” Yixing blearily feels around on his desk for the pen the moment he wakes, Minseok’s hand squeezing gentle pressure at his shoulder. “Resting my eyes. I’ll get some coffee– thanks.” He gives Minseok a grateful, if slightly puzzled smile when he’s handed the pen.

Minseok watches on with a hand at his hip as Yixing resumes staring blankly at his composition sheet, just as he’d been doing when Minseok visited with tea. “Maybe you’d have more luck doing that if you got some sleep?”

“No, no,” Yixing says plaintively. “I need this finished by tomorrow afternoon at latest. If I can finish it in the next few hours then I’ll have hours to sleep on the train.” Uncapping the pen and gesturing above the page as though he’s about to write unfortunately doesn’t make Minseok leave him to it.

In fact it just makes Minseok reach to take the pen from his hand, replace the cap. Yixing looks up at him with it clear in his eyes that Minseok is going to win whether he fights or not. “I can’t let you do that,” Minseok tells him gently. Yixing was up first this morning and Minseok can’t remember him coming to bed the night before.

Yixing sighs, defeated, when all it takes is Minseok’s encouraging smile for him to be coerced out of his chair.


	5. "Can I kiss you" chanyeol/tao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: "Can I kiss you" ChanTao pls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> internet relationship au

Chanyeol has seen Zitao’s face through screens, heard his voice and watched him move and fallen asleep with him through his macbook beside his pillow enough times that he doesn’t think it’ll be all that strange to finally see him in the flesh.

That’s what he’d thought, at least, with his knee jogging impatiently for the entire bus journey up to the airport. Zitao’s plane arrived twenty minutes before Chanyeol – he sends Chanyeol pictures of where he’s standing, pictures of his feet (‘I’m really here!’), a picture of his pouting face (‘the plane dried my skin out :(((’).

‘nah u look beautiful ;)’ Chanyeol sends as the bus pulls up. He shoves his phone back into his pocket before he can read Zitao’s response.

 

Zitao in real life is a little taller than Chanyeol had expected. The softness in his voice turns to hoarseness when he calls Chanyeol’s name, only with a second’s warning of flinging his arms around him.

Chanyeol staggers to the side, throwing an arm around Zitao’s shoulder as much for balance as to return the hug.

“Oh my god oh my god, oh my god, Chanyeol,” Zitao’s mouth is right beside his ear, and Chanyeol really couldn’t care less about the looks they’re getting, but he does care about making it out of this weekend without perforated eardrums. “Oh my god,” Zitao says again as Chanyeol unpeels him from his side, “You’re real.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, squeezes Zitao’s hands tight to stop them from flapping around. “Of course I’m fucking real.” And so are you, Chanyeol thinks as he realises the unfamiliar sharp scent lingering on his clothes is from Zitao. It’s a really, really nice thought.

“Sorry, I’m just–” Zitao’s grinning wider than Chanyeol’s ever seen in pictures as he retrieves his bag from where he’d dumped it in favour of flinging himself at his boyfriend. “Really excited. It took so much planning it felt like it’d never happen.”

“Yeah, well.” Chanyeol slings an arm around Zitao’s shoulders. It’s so much more casual than the tremble in his knees or just how fast his heart is pounding, but Chanyeol is  _not_  going to get choked up in public. “You’ve got a whole weekend to get used to it.”

“Mm.” Zitao presses into Chanyeol’s side and under the hold of his arm as much as he’s able as they make their way to the bus terminal. Chanyeol told him when this started that he’d never had– never intended to have a boyfriend before, so Zitao isn’t all that put out by how tense he seems alongside his big smiles. Them both being real means a lot of other things are, too.

And maybe he shouldn’t ask in public, before they’ve even had their first full conversation face to face, but Chanyeol confusedly shakes Zitao off of his arm when his hold turns clinging and then squeezing and Zitao just blurts it out. “Can I kiss you?”

Chanyeol’s frown is deep. “Uh.”

“Oh, no. I mean, not if, not,” Zitao’s flapping his hands again, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I just, y’know?”

“No, uh.” There’s a lot of people around, but none of them are exactly paying attention. And fuck it, it wouldn’t really matter if they were – this kiss has had to wait 18 months already. Chanyeol scrubs at the back of his neck before reaching to pull his cap around. “Sure. Go for it.”

Zitao wrinkles his nose. “You’re nowhere near as charming as you are online,” he says, folding his hands at Chanyeol’s chest, and squeals in surprise when Chanyeol elects to shut him up by swooping in first. 


	6. "Come home with me" tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: “Come home with me.” Tao, sehun, and candy. In the context of adopting her lmao i swear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops ヽ（・＿・；)ノ

“I don’t know, Candy, he looks a little big.”

Sehun flicks an ear in disinterest. His prospective new owner looks pretty big himself, in a stupid oversized crushed velvet coat with his tiny dog clutched to his chest.

“What do you think?” he asks her, head bent in. Candy yawns and starts trying to turn in his arms. “I agree,” Zitao nods. Then he gently taps at the glass with a fingertip. “How tall are you?”

“Not as tall as you,” Sehun guesses as he stands, smoothing out his clothes, tucking his swaying tail back behind himself. It’s a near thing. “Just about,” he says, flattening his ears to his hair.

Zitao steps until his toes are against the glass, drawing himself up. It takes a moment, but when he breaks out into a big, slow smile Sehun doesn’t think he looks all that bad as potential adopters go. “Come home with me.” 

Sehun shrugs and pushes his curved tail behind his back again. 


	7. "I'll be right over" tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> suhosridingcrop sent: "I'll be right over", taohun

“I’ll be right over,” Zitao says loud enough for his parents to hear, passing his phone from hand to hand as he tugs on shoes. “Sehun said it’s an emergency,” he calls from the doorway once he’s hung up and is ready to go and save his best friend from whatever dire situation he’s in. “Like really urgent, I might be a few hours.”

 

“What–” Zitao starts as the catch on the door clicks, but the moment it’s pulled open he comes face to face with the problem. “Woah. Nice.”

“Not nice!” Sehun grips his wrist and drags him in, keeping himself as hidden inside as possible. His parents aren’t due back for hours, but if anyone else on their floor sees it could mean an equally painful fate. “My hair is green, Tao, what is  _nice_  about that?”

Zitao nods– yeah, it’s really green, and keeps on staring at it with wide, bright eyes.

“It was  _supposed_  to be  _blonde_  like  _yours_ , jerk,” Sehun punctuates with shoves to Zitao’s arm that snap him out of his daze. Zitao whines and shoves back.

“Why are you hitting me? Just because I can follow instructions– stop stop,” Zitao makes a grab at Sehun’s hands, catching one and gripping tight. It’s no great loss that he just smacks him by misaiming at the other. “Give me ten minutes to buy some stuff and I can fix it.”

Sehun looks a little less crumpled at that suggestion. Zitao is a good friend.

“I want pictures first, though.”

Or not. Sehun gives Zitao a less than gentle push towards the door. “Hair dye first, pictures once I know you can fix it.”

“But it suits you,” Zitao protests. He barely got away with having his a shade that passes as blonde in the right light. “When we’re older, Huna,” he says as he’s handed loose change from Sehun’s pocket (uncounted, because Zitao was going to pay anyway), “Promise you’ll do it again. I love it.”

Now is not the time for how pink they both turn in the pause between Zitao speaking and Sehun pulling the door open. “Yes, whatever, just go.”

Zitao stands his ground in the doorway. “I want you to do it again.”

Next time Sehun has a crisis he’s going to call Jongin instead. Junmyeon, even. Neither of them are particularly suited to emergencies, but they probably wouldn’t come up with conditions. “Just for you, when I’m 21, I promise–  _go_.”

Satisfied, grinning, Zitao reaches for one last unappreciated squeeze to Sehun’s hand before he hurries off down the hallway.


	8. "I'm flirting with you" tao/suho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hztkjm sent: suho and tao + "I'm flirting with you"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> otaku nerd au (oh wait that's not au)

“What’s your name?”

Junmyeon blinks up from behind his manga and instinctively sinks down a little in the armchair. That tall pierced guy that took his money when he came in is looming over him, and his smile doesn’t make it any less unsettling. So many teeth. “Junmyeon?” he answers without hesitation. Hesitating would look suspicious, right?

Not that he’s knowingly done anything wrong, but he’s never been here before. It’s an internet cafe, but he just wanted to get out of the rain for half an hour and they had a shelf of manga and you don’t  _have_  to use the computers he’s sure–

“Can I get your number?”

Junmyeon goes cold, from the back of his neck right through to his fingertips. He must have done something wrong. “I–” Or maybe it’s for promotions? Or maybe he could just leave. Tall-pierced-guy’s name badge says Tao. Junmyeon clears his throat and tries it – they’re apparently on first name terms. “Is there a problem, Tao?”

Tao’s features scrunch a little at Junmyeon using his name. Not a bad scrunch, he doesn’t think. Tao shrugs. “Is there?” 

“Is there?”Junmyeon repeats a tone higher, then swallows hard. He’s only a quarter of the way through his book. What a terrible day. “Did I do something wrong?”

Tao gives him a hard look, glances around to see who’s within earshot, then leans in closer. “I’m _flirting_  with you,” he says indignantly, “I’m the one that’d get in trouble.”

“Oh.” Junmyeon smiles, small and polite, because he’s not sure what else to do. “I couldn’t tell. Sorry.”

Tao just stares at him, mouth open. He looks like he’d throw his hands up if it weren’t for the fact it’d draw attention; instead he stuffs them in his apron pockets and stomps back to the counter.

 

Junmyeon finishes his book with it held an inch from his face, shoulders hunched, curled up as small as he fits in the armchair. He stays behind it for a further five minutes wondering how to make a quick exit without Tao seeing, but Tao rarely seems to leave the counter and it’s right beside the door. 

So Junmyeon tries just staring intently down at his phone as he walks. He makes it as far as the door, reaches for the handle, and nearly jumps out of his skin when there’s a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“Hey,” Tao says over his head, nudges again just to make sure Junmyeon isn’t going to ignore him and leave.

“Sorry,” Junmyeon replies reflexively as he turns. He is, for the accidental rejection and for offending Tao in the process. Tao doesn’t look too put out, though – not as much as Junmyeon does when Tao reaches for his hand.

“This is because I want you to text me,” Tao says slow and clear, tapping the paper he’s slipped into Junmyeon’s palm. “If you didn’t realise.”

“I’d have figured that out,” Junmyeon pouts. “Eventually,” he adds for how sceptically Tao is looking at him, and it earns him another gentle nudge.


	9. "Come over here and make me" tao/suho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: 1."Come over here and make me." Sutao :0000

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (but tao as a bengal kitty and jm as a westie)

Jongdae had intended on getting another cat to be Zitao’s companion (Zitao only kept up the pretence that he was a solitary creature for around an hour; his yowling when Jongdae is late home attracts a lot of complaints from the neighbours), and in honesty he  _had_  thought Junmyeon was a cat. Right up until he’d been presented with adoption forms clearly headed with the the word _canine_. Jongdae had wanted a small fluffy adorable pet, though, and small fluffy white haired Junmyeon was who had captured his heart.

As a dog Junmyeon’s temperament is blessedly far from Zitao’s, his nature a pleasant one. He can get wound a little tight at times, but overall he’s affectionate, loyal, and his helpfulness in other areas makes up for how incapable he is at not leaving clutter everywhere he goes. He’s even good natured enough to sometimes wear the ridiculous accessories Jongdae’s friends buy as gifts, despite being assured no one will know and be upset if he doesn’t.

He’s a little too good natured, really, but he reassures Jongdae that Zitao doesn’t push him around more than he can deal with.

 

“Tao, no no no no–”

Nothing makes Zitao laugh like Junmyeon trying to catch up with him, although the apartment is a little small for a full blown chase. Zitao is better at taking sharp corners though; Junmyeon’s feet skid and Zitao is out of sight by the time he’s stable on his legs again.

“Tao,” Junmyeon calls helplessly. There aren’t many rooms to choose from, but when Zitao’s feeling playful one wrong move can result in all manner of unpleasant cat-things that Junmyeon still can’t see can actually be fun even for other cats. (And yeah, Zitao had to deal with Junmyeon’s teething, but that was a. a necessity and b. only lasted for a short while compared to a potential lifetime of being mercilessly pawed around.)

“Tao, it’s not for you. You’ll get us both in so much trouble..” Junmyeon cautiously peers into the bathroom, wringing his hands, but it’s empty. 

Junmyeon is the one Jongdae leaves in charge of the place while he’s gone, and Junmyeon takes that responsibility very seriously. Really he only feels as kindly towards that guy that Jongdae spends  _a lot_  of time with recently as Zitao does (albeit with less hissing), but when he’d turned up at the door with a small gift box for their owner, Junmyeon had of course politely accepted with promises to pass it on as soon as their master was home.

And then Zitao had snatched it out of his hands and run. This is all very bad.

Junmyeon checks the next two rooms with his tail between his legs and a low keen in the back of his throat. He loves Zitao dearly, but he’s never been much fun when it comes to rule breaking. He’s never been very good at not worrying himself sick, either, but Jongdae just laughed the last time Junmyeon called him at work to profusely apologise for not stopping Zitao in time and suggest that perhaps Jongdae should buy himself replacement dinner on his way home. Perhaps that’s the difference between breeder or shelter bought pets. Or maybe Zitao is right and Junmyeon is just old and no fun sometimes.

It’s barely a relief to find Zitao without being leapt on. Grinning from ear to ear, claws working into the ribbon around the box. It’s chocolate, they can both smell it through the wrapping. Zitao doesn’t like chocolate.

Junmyeon flails a hand. “Don’t, don’t–” If it’s not open Jongdae never has to know.

Zitao’s tail is a happy curve up against his back. “If you want it all you have to do is take it back,” he says, sweetly disinterested.

Junmyeon eyes him warily. He takes two steps nearer and Zitao, Zitao’s entire face creases in amusement as he holds the box high above his head. Junmyeon whines soft in his throat. He’s only a little dog even fully grown. His ears are small, soft points barely emerged from his hair, his tail just a fluffy stub.

“This isn’t funny.” Junmyeon pushes up onto his toes and takes a half-hearted swipe, barely reaching Zitao’s wrist. He’s got no chance, even if he jumps. Zitao would love to see him jumping. “We’re going to be in so much trouble. You’re not being cute–,” another swipe, “Give it back–”, another, and this time he gets a little closer.

Zitao jerks away when Junmyeon’s fingertips almost reach his palm and just stretches up higher, grins wider. “Make me,” he croons, tail swaying.

And Junmyeon tries. He really does. Zitao is too heavy to push, not ticklish enough to take both hands down at once. His reflexes are too fast for Junmyeon to catch him unguarded, and his laugh gets louder and pitchier the more Junmyeon’s cheeks colour.

It’s just frustration, really, that makes Junmyeon reach for Zitao’s ears. Nothing else he’s doing is resulting in any more than making Zitao laugh at him – a tug to his ear might at least put an end to that, if not get the box out of his hands.

They’re harder to grab hold of than Jummyeon anticipated, the way they flick and turn, but once he’s made a lunge there’s no going back. Zitao yowls instinctively, attempting to duck away the moment he realises what’s happening. Junmyeon half expects Zitao to sink his claws in; he doesn’t in the least expect the way Zitao stiffens when Junmyeon’s fingers skate the soft curve of an ear.

It’s easy from there, pulling Zitao down to a more manageable height. Zitao follows the stroke of fingers to the base of his left ear, curls in with a loud purr and no need for pressure. His expression is adorably perplexed about this; he really hadn’t intended to stop any time soon, but the sensation is wonderfully, frustratingly irresistible.

Junmyeon has completely forgotten about the purpose of this when the clatter of the box to the floor startles him out of it. “Oh,” he says, and swiftly leans to scoop it up before Zitao can grab it again. Zitao doesn’t look like he could do much of anything right now but take a nap.

He cautiously gives his ears a flick, then paws at the left to see if it gets rid of the tingles Junmyeon’s icky dog paws left behind. “That was unfair,” Zitao whines.

“You said to make you.” Junmyeon sounds as surprised with himself as Zitao looks. He’s a little pleased, too, if he’s honest. Jongdae is going to get his gift and the world isn’t going to end any more. And when they’re settled back on the couch waiting for their owner to arrive home Zitao drapes over his shoulders, purring, and that’s not so bad either.


	10. "You came back" suho/tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sehunsluckycharm sent: Only do this one if you're sure because potentially painful but .... Sutaohun "You came back"

Sehun wakes immediately aware of the lack of soft snores from the bunk below. It’s 2am, and it takes some serious coordination for him to make it out of his bed and into the hallway.

Zitao is fast asleep when Sehun slips into his room, doesn’t wake to the click of the door shutting. Candy is sleeping beside his pillow, curled small. Junmyeon is curled up even tighter, ontop the covers, slotted against Zitao’s back and into the curve of his knees. Exactly where Sehun knew he’d be.

“Hyung.” Zitao’s a deep sleeper; Sehun leans right over him to give Junmyeon’s shoulder a nudge. It shakes them both, but neither of them wake. “Hyung, you’re freezing,” Sehun says, and this shove makes Junmyeon’s brows pinch in a frown.

Candy wakes when Sehun’s large hands slip under her, close around her. Enough to yawn and nose at his palm, but not enough for her to protest being moved into her bed on the floor. Sehun gives the bridge of her snout a soft rub with a fingertip before climbing to his feet and turning back to the bed.

Junmyeon is sitting up now, one hand rubbing at his eyes, the other at Zitao’s hip over the covers.

Sehun gestures towards the pillows with a tilt of his head. “Hyung, move. You’ll be sick if you sleep out in the cold. Tao–” Zitao doesn’t exactly wake up when Sehun gives both shoulders a hard enough push to roll him, but it creates enough space either way. “Lets all get in. Hyung.”

Junmyeon nods, but he still doesn’t move. Drooped forward with sleep he looks so small. “He came back,” he says when Sehun gives him an impatient look. Because it’s been three days and Junmyeon’s eyes are still sore and sunken, and the remnants of anger and fear are just making him treat Zitao like he’s made of glass.

“You came back,” Sehun agrees, said to Zitao as he holds the covers back for Junmyeon to crawl in, and Zitao grumbles amiably as Junmyeon presses in tight under his chin.


	11. tourist/local au sehun/suho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bisexualbaekhyun sent: 30 - Sehun/Suho
> 
> tourist/knowledgeable local au

The countryside is exactly as Junmyeon has seen it in tv shows. His new companion is even wearing a straw hat. He’s not here for the scenic views and fresh air, though — it was only because the boy in the field had called him over that he’d ventured from the marginal safety of a dry dirt path. His poor shoes.

“Sorry to trouble you.” Junmyeon would look more apologetic if he weren’t frantically loosening his tie to let some air in. Popping his top button brings a split-second of relief before the air is just as stifling and he’s just really damn hot again. He’s not exactly dressed for sunning himself in a field, even having shed his jacket within moments of leaving the shade of the station building. His new friend — Sehun, he’d said, is in shorts and baggy cotton, all long limbs and bony chest exposed, and even so there’s sweat beading on his upper lip. His hand is clammy when it practically slides over the sheen below Junmyeon’s rolled sleeve, reaching for the map he’s clutching.

“No trouble,” he says, turning the map a few times. The cryptic sounds he makes as he studies it has Junmyeon slightly concerned that he’s not even going to catch the closing talk at his meeting. There’s freckles dusting the wrinkled bridge of Sehun’s nose. “Though, y'know, you probably want the town. Not the fields.”

Junmyeon squints to see where Sehun is tapping on the page. It’s exactly where he’d been heading for. “Yeah! It should have only taken fifteen minutes.” There’s the hotel Junmyeon had been aiming for right under Sehun’s finger. “Where did I go wrong?”

“Uh.” Sehun doesn’t want to be impolite to the only new face he’s seen in the last three months, so he spares Junmyeon any comment as he trails his finger back to the junction near the station, then far, far away.

That might explain why Junmyeon has seen a lot more farmers than fellow overheated salary men with briefcases. “Oh.” Junmyeon deflates considerably more. It’s too hot for him to even consider a five minute walk, let alone forty five.

Sehun shouldn’t smile, but Junmyeon forlorn looks particularly adorable. The sweat in his hair is making it stick out in little spikes, the heat colouring his cheeks. It’s been a long while since he’s met a handsome stranger. “I can walk you some of the way. And find you a drink.”

The thought of a cold drink and how far away it likely is is enough to make Junmyeon just want to lie down and let the elements take him. “You really don’t have to,” he says feebly. “I don’t want to put your day out.”

“Does it look like I was busy? You city people.” Sehun tuts amiably. “You look like you’re just gonna die here if I don’t, anyway.”

Junmyeon groans. His plans have been sussed. “Maybe.”

The land owner would definitely have something to say about that, and Sehun prefers a peaceful life. Sehun tucks the map into his pocket and brushes grass cuttings from his pants, then offers Junmyeon his hat. He protests, of course, but now he’s standing Sehun is far too big to argue with.

“Looking stupid is better than heatstroke.”

“I didn’t say I’d look stupid.” Junmyeon pouts, adjusting the brim. He probably looks rather cute, thank you very much. “It’s just that it’s yours.”

Huh. A charming handsome stranger, at that. “I’ll be fine.”

There’s nothing pleasant about Sehun heaving Junmyeon up. Everything about it is clammy and wet and Junmyeon’s shirt is stuck perfectly to his back, the fabric not allowing any give. Sehun is cute, and this is the sweatiest, least charming moment of Junmyeon’s adult life.

Sehun still smiles at him, though, and offers him a steadying hand to get back over the fence.


	12. ghost/living au  tao/sehun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theia-pallas asked: ghost/living au with sehun as the ghost??

“It’s just me,” Sehun says when his entering the room gives the curtains a little motion and breezes the papers on Zitao’s desk along. He tries to keep that to a minimum, but it sort of just comes with the whole being on the wrong physical plane thing.

Zitao is more than used to this, but he still clutches at his chest and takes a dramatic gulp for air. Sehun drops an airy kiss to his hair on his way past and Zitao whines, scrubbing it back out. “You know I hate when you’re not visible. Wear a ribbon or something.”

“It’s such a pain,” Sehun tutts. It’s not that it uses a lot of energy or hurts or anything; it’s just a bother, like asking Zitao to wear pants around the house on a Sunday. Not that Sehun ever does ask him to. Zitao’s just been a big bundle of nerves since Sehun started haunting him, and he suspects he wasn’t much better before that. “For someone who’s been able to see ghosts their whole life you don’t seem to get any more used to it.”

“I never asked to,” Zitao protests, shuffling his papers back into order. “And you haunting me for two months before you actually said you were friendly didn’t help.” Before Sehun, Zitao had only ever caught glimpses. Usually making it clear he wasn’t interested (or just making too much noise for a weary spirit to want to deal with) was enough to sort out the problem, but Sehun was persistent. And if Sehun manages to be a loud, semi-physical presence, then Zitao’s sure that means there’s others. Horrible.

Having a domestic ghost living in his apartment is kind of nice in it’s own way, though – Sehun keeps his dog company when he’s in class, and Zitao’s always preferred living with company. It’s just that Zitao is petrified of ghosts, and having one constantly invading his space and practising how to eke out a little physical touch from his energy isn’t helping. 

“A lot of people that say they can communicate with ghosts actually can’t.” Sehun shrugs, slightly opaque but visible enough now that Zitao can see how absolutely unrepentant he looks for all the hours beauty sleep Zitao’s missed out on. “And I did clean up a bit for you, I thought that’d be a hint.”

Zitao flaps his papers at Sehun, for all the good it does. “Having possessions moved around isn’t usually a good sign. I thought you were a malicious spirit or something.”

Sehun snorts. “That sorted laundry? There’s no easy way to approach living people y’know, it was the best I could do.”

Zitao makes a face, not looking to see if Sehun makes one back. Sehun doesn’t.

It’s not cold when Sehun’s arms encircle Zitao’s shoulders. Zitao always braces for it, but Sehun’s hugs are more sensation than action. He doesn’t stumble straight through anymore, though, and that’s a welcome relief to them both. “How am I doing?” Sehun asks with an attempted squeeze. Still not cold, just kinda weird.

“Pretty good today.” Zitao doesn’t lean back too much, just in case, but enough to give Sehun the sense of fuller arms. His fingers dip through Sehun’s hand a little when he reaches to give him a pat, and that still makes a scream want to rise in Zitao’s throat. He swallows it down, though, and Sehun beams.


	13. "Don't fucking touch me" kyungsoo/jongin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baek-to-the-basics sent: Kaisoo; “Don’t fucking touch me.” ^_^

When Jongin opens his eyes, for a few seconds there are two of Kyungsoo. There’s a shrill sound in his left ear, but distantly he hears the water Kyungsoo is wringing out of a washcloth. He blinks, and it’s a little hazy, but there’s only one of his master again.

Jongin keens and tries to snuffle his nose up against Kyungsoo’s damp wrist when he reaches over, but if Kyungsoo notices he doesn’t indulge.

“Stupid, stupid dog,” Kyungsoo says, but his voice is soft. So is the hand at Jongin’s temple, but the touch still makes him jerk back, and oh. Ok, so everything hurts. “You’re a stupid dog,” Kyungsoo says again. Jongin yips softly. That voice doesn’t sound much like his master, so tight and throaty.

Jongin isn’t a _bad_ dog, but Kyungsoo is probably right. Jongin is a big, gentle dog with a soft nature and a huge appetite. He likes naps and dolls and when Kyungsoo takes him to the track field a few subway stops away to run off his excess energy. All Jongin wants to do is close his eyes and wait for the aches to subside, but Kyungsoo tells him — it’s an order — to stay awake, so he does.

He’s lying on towels. He can smell blood and something sterile, and beneath that there’s sweat. Kyungsoo sometimes jokes that he’s felt safer in this neighbourhood since having a dog, but then he ruffles Jongin’s hair and tugs at the soft spot on his ear, and Jongin just loves everything about not living in a pound.

Jongin had been wandering tonight, breathing in the damp air and enjoying a lapse in summer heat. He never strays too far from his master, but tonight he’d been far enough that Kyungsoo had been presumed alone. Jongin would have heard his voice even if it hadn’t roared out louder than he knew it could.  _Don’t fucking touch me_. But they were a lot bigger than Kyungsoo, and they did. And Jongin’s instincts took over where logic failed him.

On the bright side he efficiently protected his master. The only blood on Kyungsoo is Jongin’s.

“Look at you,” Kyungsoo chides as he rinses the washcloth again, but his tone is a little lighter now. With his face cleaned Jongin’s wounds aren’t as extensive as he’d feared — and he did mostly fight with his teeth, so there’s a chance some of the mess wasn’t his own. Jongin tries to lean towards his voice again, and this time Kyungsoo offers him his palm. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches. That’s good, isn’t it, boy?”

Jongin nuzzles with enthusiasm in response. He’s making Kyungsoo’s palm wet. Even his tail feels bruised, and it beating against the back of the couch isn’t helping. He can’t stop it though, not with Kyungsoo tentatively, carefully wrapping an arm around him.


	14. things you said with no space between us kris/tao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baek-to-the-basics asked: #16, things you said with no space between us; taoris please :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (aroace tao who’s overly expressive and doesn’t realise the context things he’s saying will be taken in is all I’m ever writing again sorry)

Whoever is organizing this event must not be familiar with bands that have more than four members. The stage is big enough for no collisions, just, after a very necessary dress rehearsal. Exo-M are only due two outfit changes during their set, but with the rail of clothing in the dressing room it leaves precisely enough space for five people. If all of them slot in and stand motionless.

Zitao was first in and offered to step out once he was finished up, freeing up a chair and some breathing space. Yifan isn’t done — his hair is still flat, and one of his eyebrows is more defined than the other — but Jongdae accidentally reverses his chair back into his thigh for a third time, and goddamnit it was sore enough already. It’s as much as his patience can withstand.

“Need some air,” he says as he bowls towards the door, hands raised both in apology and to shield his face as every occupant of the room has to move with him. It’s probably less suffocating in there if your head isn’t a few inches from the ceiling. Yifan stoops down precautionarily low out of the doorway.

It’s a good thing he wasn’t serious when he said he wanted some air, because it’s not much clearer out here in the yellow-lit corridor. It takes a lot of excusing himself and shuffling to make his way towards where he can make out the top of Zitao’s head; Zitao’s trying to be small and out of the way where he’s pressed up against the wall, but the harassed look on his face leads Yifan to assume it’s not working out.

“So this is what being ‘up and coming’ is like, huh,” Yifan says as he sidles through a crowd of girls wearing lanyards. Zitao just catches the sound of his voice, dropping the loose hem he was fiddling with and smiling up at him.

“Yeah. It’s exciting, though. Getting to see lots of new places.”

“Mm.” Yifan’s lips press into a thin line. Zitao giggles, and that’s hard not to warm to. It is exciting; plenty of experiences, good company. They’re making it.

Zitao fidgets with the running thread on his sleeve again. “Gē, I'm—” Zitao starts, but he’s cut short by the sudden rattle of wheels heading their way. It’s another rail of clothing; not theirs.

Yifan’s still feeling a little sore from the earlier chair back assaults, so he’s tipped up onto his toes and leaning out of the way before the staff asks. This whole place is ridiculously cramped regardless of the size acts that play here, really, and Yifan makes a quick shuffle forwards when the shoulder of an outfit still smacks right into him.

He makes a playful, disgruntled sound as he steps around Zitao’s feet. “This place,” he says emphatically. Contorting to keep his shoulders out of harms way requires steadying himself with his hands to the wall, and it brings them good as chest to chest. “Deep breath so we fit, Tao,” Yifan jokes, and Zitao nods, jittery, grateful for the way he gasped at the sudden contact being brushed aside. Duizhang is very kind to him and his erratic hormones.

There must be traffic up ahead, because moments pass and the rail doesn’t continue on its way. Zitao stops staring so pointedly into the shadows at Yifan’s throat to glance up at him, questioning. The plastic coverings on the outfits pressing against Yifan’s back is already making him sweat; their stage outfits aren’t light, and the heat of another body was making that worse even before Zitao’s hands had started tentatively feeling their way onto Yifan’s shoulders.

“Balance. Your arms are shaking,” Zitao explains before he’s asked. “Gē,” he starts again, so soft that Yifan finds himself making the gap between them even smaller to catch it. “Gē, I just. I was going to say, I’m really happy. If this is what it’s like. I like this, I like doing this with everyone.”

“Yeah.” Yifan’s not a great one with words, but his smile is big and gummy enough to get the sentiment across. It’s been a crazy, sore, exhausting few weeks, but it’s been incredible. That they’ve heard it’s been much the same for their counterparts, and of all of them Zitao has cried so bitterly that their successes are an ocean apart, but this is.. this is really all coming true. “Sometime it’ll really be with everyone. You can see the others again, and we can do this all together.”

“I want that most,” Zitao agrees, sighing even more heat between them. It’s dark and muggy back here, more so than ever with the rail blocking out most of the fluorescent light. The way Zitao’s eyes have gone liquid and glittering when he blinks up at Yifan, though, that’s impossible to miss. It’s just the way Zitao is — young and easy to emotion. “You’re here with me, though,” he says softly, and, ah, well. He’s maybe always been a little extra glittery for Yifan. “So I’m still really happy. I just, I like doing this. I mean, all of it, but getting to be places with you— I like it when we get to be together.”

“Right,” Yifan says, with feeling. What else can he say? Zitao already sleeps in his bed, holds his hand when there aren’t cameras around, tells him every single day in one way or another that he’s thankful they met. Yifan likes being with him, too, and not protesting the invasion of privacy is the best way he’s found to express it.

It just makes Zitao grin as he balls his clammy hands against Yifan’s studded jacket. “I love you more than anyone, gēge.” It comes so easy and undemanding, all Yifan can do is blink back at Zitao. “Not more than my mama,” he adds as an afterthought. “Oh. It’s moving, gē.”

“Oh.” Yifan waits for the sound of wheels to pass before easing away. He’s so relieved to have cool air over his back again rather than rows of plastic wrapped clothes. That’s a different kind of love, Yifan would perhaps argue if it was something worth debating, but Zitao seems perfectly content both with what he’s said and the lack of response. “Good luck out there today,” Yifan says instead. He claps Zitao’s shoulder in a gesture of good leadership and wheezes when he’s swept into a bear hug in return.


	15. "give me one good reason I should wear a dress" baekhyun/tao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: baektao with “Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress.” (baek wears the dress please) or "you came back!" thank you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([this](http://www.yesstyle.co.uk/en/deepny-sleeveless-denim-mini-dress/info.html/pid.1045101163) outfit btw)

"Please don't be angry," Zitao says before Baekhyun has even set foot in the room. He could tell it was going to be him — Baekhyun has a way of working the stiff lock on the door that his roommate has yet to perfect. Jackson's responsible for both the deep scrapes through the paint and the dent beside the handle.

Baekhyun hesitates in the doorway to toe out of his shoes. "Would I ever _be angry_ with you?" He asks with a heavy accent on the repeated words. Zitao doesn't even make a face at him, just scooches back on the bed to make room for Baekhyun to join him. Baekhyun doesn't, though, he heads to Zitao's desk instead.

"I'm sorry," Zitao stretches over to swipe at Baekhyun. "I did try, but it's so last minute and, and I'm really grateful you said you'd do it to start with, and—" he rambles while Baekhyun sifts through the papers he'd frantically texted about this morning. It's not hard to charm Baekhyun into doing things, and he'd been up for modelling for Zitao's portfolio without requiring much persuasion. Being friends with a photography student means everyone ends up being an impromptu model at some point, and Zitao is good; Baekhyun hadn't minded the idea of a proper shoot at all. Until this last minute change to the brief. But Baekhyun's a good person, he's still here.

"I can't believe you don't know _any_ girls that could have stepped in," he sighs, though in fairness he had just come over without making any calls himself. "I mean, I can, but I can't believe you're actually going to make me wear a dress."

"It's cute?" Zitao offers. The girl from Fashion that had handed the outfit over to him this morning hadn't given many instructions. She looked like she'd had less sleep over the last week than he had, and she spent most of the brief exchange talking too fast for him. He'd got the idea that her portfolio progress was about as hectic as his own, though, and judging by the enthusiasm with which she threw her arms around him he can only guess getting a last-minute photographer was important enough that the model doesn't matter. He's kind of hoping she won't do that again when she gets the files. It's really no surprise he didn't have any close girl friends to hand. "I mean. It's just a cute casual thing. And no heels. And she— no offense, but your head will be cut out anyway."

Well, _that's_ highly offensive, Baekhyun's already done his make up. "Hmm." But of course Baekhyun didn't come over here just to turn it down — Zitao's his best friend, and it's not like this is even just about his grade anymore. "Well." He shuffles the papers back together and takes the half-step from the desk to Zitao's bed so he can lean to give his shoulder a friendly smack. Zitao responds by covering his hand, then squeezing tight. There's something else.

"Um." Zitao winces at the look Baekhyun is giving him. "I, uh. You. You're going to need to shave."

\--

It is a pretty cute outfit. It's a slightly awkward fit on Baekhyun, but it's the shirt underneath the dress that's tight across his shoulders and loose at the waist, and that's mostly covered. The dress itself is denim and plain, made for someone a little taller with an inch slit on each side, a hem that's only half a hand above knee level if he's standing perfectly upright. Baekhyun's pretty charmed by the little pockets at the front, and finds he's making a habit of stuffing his hands into them every time the chill on his bare, sensitive legs makes him feel fidgety.

"What season is this intended for?" Baekhyun asks as he walks in slow, measured steps. Everything above waist is too hot under the thick layers, but the rest of him is starting to feel like it's slowly freezing off. He prefered when they were taking shots indoors and there was less breeze and less chance of someone walking by.

"Five more minutes," is Zitao's reply as he lowers his camera to check the shots he's just taken. He smiles and gestures for them to move on, and Baekhyun takes his arm. It's more to leech some heat than anything, but Zitao is obligingly soft to contact and draws Baekhyun in closer as they walk.

"I'm a natural, aren't I." Baekhyun doesn't even have to give off a warning look for Zitao to nod in response to that. They've gotten through this relatively fast, and Zitao's been giving his camera those little kitty grins after almost every set. Baekhyun can be a pleasure when he wants to.

"Mostly." Zitao shrugs and frees his arm back up so he can shoo Baekhyun towards a row of potted plants. "And I'm just really good," he says modestly, hooking his camera around his neck so both hands are free to tug the outfit back into shape. "Can you crouch down for this one? Plants and stuff."

"Uh." Baekhyun can, of course, being a natural and all. He keeps a hand firmly at the hem of the dress as he goes, smoothing it in under his thighs so it tucks securely in against his calves. The slit seems to ride a lot higher like this, and it's not that Baekhyun doesn't have _great_ legs, but this has to be the highlight of him regretting the lengths he'll go to for a friend. Sure is breezy today.

Zitao squats beside him, mindful of Baekhyun's balance as he adjusts the shirt collar and shoulder straps. "Last set," he promises. Baekhyun sniffs loudly at him. His nose is threatening to run and he's pretty sure it must be pink with cold by now, but it's not like that'll matter in the photos. Zitao rubs a hand over Baekhyun's back both in apology and for a little heat before sidling back to line up the first shot.

\--

"I'm going to have flu by next week."

Baekhyun's too busy rubbing at his arms and sides to work his magic on the lock, leaving Zitao to wrench the door open and hold it for Baekhyun to dart in. Zitao didn't think it was _that_ cold out, honestly, only as chilly as it starts to turn at this time of year. He is wearing jeans and a sweater, though. By the time his shoes are lined beside the pastel sneakers Baekhyun wore for the shoot and he's set his camera on the desk Baekhyun is trying to wrap himself up in one of the shirts draped over the back of Zitao's desk chair.

Zitao doesn't bother disagreeing, just sinks down into the chair while Baekhyun droops down onto the edge of the bed. "It'll be worth it when you see the pictures and help us pass our classes," he offers, reaching for the camera, but right now Baekhyun looks more interested in shivering and complaining than seeing how on form Zitao's composition was today.

"If I don't just die first?" Baekhyun gives Zitao an accusing look. He's rubbing his legs together so vigorously Zitao can hear it.

And really, Zitao can't have that. Not in his room, on his bed, when Baekhyun was doing him a favour. "You'll warm up if you get changed back." Zitao states the obvious, and Baekhyun just makes a loud snuffling sound and pulls the shirt tighter around his shoulders. Hmm. More immediate measures required. It's a small stretch over for Zitao to rest both hands just above Baekhyun's knees, fingers spread to encircle his thighs. "You're really cold," Zitao confirms worriedly. And then he starts rubbing; brisk, gentle little back and forths over the bare skin below the hem.

Baekhyun almost startles, more from how hot Zitao's palms are than from where they're touching. That's a little surprising, too, but honestly, if Zitao had ulterior motives it'd be clear on his face. "That's helping," Baekhyun says, and oops, he missed the mark of sarcastic by a pretty long way. Encouraged, Zitao gives him a pleased look and rubs harder, a little wider, and Baekhyun can't really find the motivation to correct himself.


	16. "give me one good reason why I should wear a dress" tao/suho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meowtao sent: Asdfghjkl !!! SuTao "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (~‾▿‾)~ ft. pointless daddy kink because I miss soft daddies and like complicated genderfeels

“Guess what I’m going to be for Halloween,” Zitao says as he skitters around Junmyeon in the kitchen, searching for something sharp to hack into the box that’s just arrived. “Guess, daddy. _daddy_.”

“Oh. Well..” Junmyeon looks speculative out of courtesy. Zitao beams. He was a vampire last year, a vampire the year before.. Unsurprisingly, the first thing out of the box is a little bottle of fake blood. “A vampire?” He asks, because Zitao’s too busy digging around to notice that he’s seen.

“Yeah!”

“Good guess.” Junmyeon rests his elbows on the counter, leaning over to watch Zitao scattering polystyrene curls over the floor. Junmyeon hasn’t really made any plans for Halloween himself — it’s a little early for the enthusiasm to get to him yet. He and Zitao usually part ways for those kinds of things; he’s not all that surprised that Zitao’s already got fully formed plans and his outfit ready in the first week of September. “What’s Sehunnie going to be?” He asks as Zitao admires his new set of fangs through their packaging. “Are you coordinating again?”

Zitao huffs. “After last year?” Zitao had been planning his look for  _weeks_ ; Sehun giving himself a liberal dousing of fake blood and only playing the part of Zitao’s victim until he’d found someone to make out with wasn’t very in the spirit of things. That yakult lady ruined Zitao’s night. “Actually, daddy,” Zitao says with a glance up to Junmyeon, “If you don’t wanna it’s ok, but I got you something too.”

Junmyeon just blinks at him. He and his baby have different groups of friends and tend to not do many social things together. And Halloween is the only time of year he gets a good excuse to cosplay. Knowing this, it doesn’t seem too stupid to ask: “Not for Halloween?”

“Not for with everyone else,” Zitao agrees. And Junmyeon would love to stay and sate his curiosity, but he should really be heading off to work, and Zitao’s not letting up on the box. If there’s a story to go with this decision it’ll have to wait til later.

–

Zitao grumbled when daddy had to leave before he’d got the chance to explain, and he grumbled again when he texted instead and daddy definitely read the messages but conveniently didn’t find time to reply. And he’s grumbling again now, sitting on the edge of the bed with the box between his feet and his daddy very pointedly ignoring it as he changes out of his work clothes.

“If you don’t like something you’re still supposed to say thank you,” he says, kicking his ankles against the sides of the box. “You didn’t even look at it yet. Didn’t you like it in the picture? daddy. _daddy_.” Zitao squirms in annoyance. It pulls at the bed covers and disrupts Candy where she was curled below his pillow, and now Junmyeon has two sets of accusing eyes on him.

Junmyeon’s pretty much hopeless at dealing with one of them being annoyed with him, so it doesn’t take more than a matter of seconds for him to weaken with them both giving him looks. “I’ve only been home five minutes,” he says as he reaches over to give Candy an apologetic little scritch behind one of her soft ears. She’s more forgiving than Zitao is, yawning widely and settling back down straight away. Zitao looks like he might need a little more than a scratch behind the ear. “And,” Junmyeon starts cautiously, but Zitao’s already scowling. “And I was surprised. That’s all.”

“A nice surprise?” Zitao presses. He doesn’t protest when Junmyeon sidles up close to him, but he does an admirable job of not softening under the firm stroke of fingers over his lower back. “I did _tons_  of research,” he pouts, “To make sure it was right.”

“And daddy appreciates the effort you went to,” Junmyeon says softly, and he’s pretty sure his face must be starting to look as hot as it feels. Zitao always puts thought into what he does, so this wouldn’t be any different. It is different, though, a little. Zitao’s sour expression softens a little at the praise. “It’s just. A dress, Taozi. I wasn’t sure why you— that’s not what daddies usually wear.”

Oh, so that’s it. Zitao’s features all at once brighten up again. “Well.” He shrugs. “Because you like them? And I think you look really pretty. But you don’t have any of your own, and they had all these nice ones on the site I was ordering from anyway, so I thought like, seeing as everyone is dressing up anyway, if you wanted to then you could too.”

As usual, Zitao has definitely given this some thought. Is that reason enough? Just liking something? Junmyeon’s not sure. He hadn’t realised he’d made it obvious, really, but Zitao’s not one to try and get things past.

“You’re frowning.” Zitao’s pouting again. With good reason, Junmyeon thinks, after he went to so much effort and hasn’t gotten much of a response beyond a flustered daddy. “Was I wrong?” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like much of a question. Just an excuse for Junmyeon to avoid having to come up with words himself.

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” Junmyeon says by way of reply, and Zitao looks a lot happier about things once he’s been rewarded for all of his thoughtfulness with a kiss. And another, slower and a little more indulgent, as apology. “I’ll, uh.” It’s tempting to just stay now Zitao looks all warm and dazed, but it doesn’t last. He looks attentive as ever as soon as Junmyeon looks down to the box.

Candy makes a displeased little sound from the head of the bed when Zitao starts jogging the mattress. Little bounces are still pretty big when you’re a boy of his size. “Are you going to try it on? Right now?” Junmyeon nearly overbalances when Zitao gives the box an enthusiastic heave up into his arms.

“Yeah.” Junmyeon gives him a sheepish smile over the edge of the box, and Zitao doesn’t waste time scrambling further up onto the bed to sit with Candy so they have a good vantage point. “No peeking,” he says nowhere near sternly, and Zitao grins so broadly, for now that’s probably reason enough.


	17. "possessive" suho/tao

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: sutao and the word "possessive"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically in which Junmyeon has mastered great control over his powers in all but one area

 

“I’m really sorry,” Zitao says as Junmyeon looks up from his book, and Junmyeon already knows that he means it from how tightly wrung the hem of his jacket is between his hands. “Really, really sorry, but could we reschedule our date night?”

“Problem?” Junmyeon closes his book and gives Zitao is best totally-concerned-not-at-all-sulking look. He’s not very good at it, honestly, but Zitao takes it.

Zitao shakes his head, so that’s good, at least. “No, it’s just, you know Jackson had that date he’s been talking about so much? I wouldn’t–” Zitao just waves his hands to supplement describing what he’s doing (standing Junmyeon up, cancelling their carefully planned date, making a large dent form between Junmyeon’s brows) "Ever! Normally, but he got stood up last minute and doesn’t want to go alone, and he’s been excited about it all week and..“

Junmyeon sets the book in his lap so he can reach for Zitao’s hand. "It’s nice you two look out for each other,” he says, and Zitao isn’t sure that’s an answer. Between Junmyeon’s smile, soft and understanding, and the pass of his thumb over Zitao’s knuckles, this doesn’t seem all that bad. “So you’ll be gone the whole evening?”

“If the weather stays nice? It’s an outdoor thing– if it does and we stay til closing then I could just sleep over.”

That’s fine, Junmyeon manages to say before Zitao has dived in for a kiss. They can just reschedule for maybe next week or.. month, maybe, now he thinks about it. He almost asks if Jackson is planning to wear something with sleeves for this date, but no, that would be unkind.

He saves it for after Zitao has gone, instead, when he’s got Jongdae on the phone. Jongdae lets out a loud snort and says he’s probably flexing as they speak, and that doesn’t make Junmyeon feel any better.

 

Zitao gets home around two minutes after Junmyeon has gone to bed. Junmyeon hears the clatter of him trying to deal with his wet shoes and jacket in the doorway, and when the pad of bare feet grows louder Junmyeon flips on the lamp and sits up.

“Oh,” Zitao says when he opens the door to light. “Sorry, did I wake you when I got in?”

Junmyeon shakes his head, but Zitao’s already turned away and digging in the laundry pile for a towel to dry off his hair with. “Is the weather bad?” He asks innocently. He’s a terrible, terrible person.

“It rained so suddenly!” Zitao turns back to Junmyeon, scrubbing his hair with the towel. Every drop of water on him sends something satisfyingly tight and grounding through Junmyeon. “It’s lucky it didn’t start until pretty near the end, but it was still a surprise.” Dropping the towel back where he got it from, Zitao then starts digging around for something warm to change into. “Rain wasn’t forecast.. My phone didn’t even say it was raining when it was at its worst. Weird, huh.”

“Well,” Junmyeon says, and then doesn’t elaborate. He’d only intended to send enough of a shower over there that it would bring Zitao home to him rather than a long weekend with Jackson, but.. well, Jongdae must have gotten him riled up. Zitao seems more upset about the wet hems of his jeans touching his ankles than anything else, so Junmyeon doesn’t feel too awful. “Did you still have a nice time?”

Zitao nods before his head disappears into an old sweater. “Yeah! It was fun.” He wiggles in under the covers and balls up small and tight around Junmyeon in an attempt to warm up faster. Junmyeon doesn’t complain when cold toes shove between his calves – definitely a duty he’s earned. “I’m sorry about our date though,” Zitao adds as he makes himself comfortable at Junmyeon’s shoulder.

“You’re here now,” Junmyeon punctuates with a kiss to Zitao’s damp hair. “Doesn’t matter.”

–

It only takes two days for Junmyeon to crack under the pressure of his self-imposed guilt and own up to intentionally emptying a rain cloud over Jackson’s head.

Zitao is more amused than angry, thankfully, and Junmyeon swears to himself that he’ll return to only using his power for good. And emergencies.

 

Two days later, Zitao claims that Sehun, that incredibly tall and incredibly rude boy he knows from class, is just here to study. Junmyeon smiles and offers to leave them in peace, because he’s gracious like that, but one thing he is not is as gullible as Zitao. Sehun may be making the worst job of flirting Junmyeon has ever seen, but oh, he’s seeing it.

 

Junmyeon gives Zitao a pleasantly surprised smile when no more than ten minutes later he flops onto the couch beside him. “You’re finished up already?”

“Mm.” Zitao’s not quite smiling, not quite frowning. Junmyeon’s not sure how to read it, so he just focuses back on the movie. Zitao nudges him in the ribs. “Huna had to go home. His glass fell over.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon says, with feeling. A tragedy.

“It wasn’t even half full, but there was so much water everywhere. It even ended up in his bag somehow.”

How awful. Junmyeon glances at Zitao out of the corner of his eye. He’s pouting. Best to just keep watching the screen. “Nothing of yours got ruined though?”

“Nothing.” Making a show of squirming, Zitao gets comfortable against Junmyeon’s shoulder and throws an arm around him, weighing down heavy and lax against his side. “So it’s ok. This time.”


	18. sensitive spot - kyungsoo/jongin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Could I ask for kaisoo, with kyungsoo having a sensitive spot on his neck at kai teasing him

Jongin was allowed to be company to Kyungsoo’s nap on the condition that he’s quiet, and takes it for what it is. A nap,  _not_  an opportunity. And he has been quiet, on his absolute best behaviour. In fact when there is a sound, it’s from Kyungsoo. A soft, deep sound that definitely has Jongin’s sleepy attention.

“Can you move?” he asks after gently nudging to see that Jongin is still awake to hear him. “Just a little.”

“Sure..?” Jongin straightens his knees so they aren’t bent up into Kyungsoo’s thighs, hesitantly shifts his arm from over his ribs to his waist instead. He isn’t really sure which part of himself is the problem until Kyungsoo gives a small shrug of his shoulder, nudging Jongin’s chin.

“Sorry. You’re breathing right on the weird part.”

“Oh.” Realisation dawns slowly and then all at once; Jongin immediately lifts away from the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck. His head feels dozy and heavy, so he only gets as far as chinning along Kyungsoo’s shoulder instead. “I thought it was the other side.”

“You’re so attentive.” Kyungsoo gives him a look. Jongin just smiles and buries into the warmth between his shoulder and the pillow, giving him space where he needs it and snuffling in to take some back up.

Kyungsoo has mentioned it before – Jongin doesn’t so much remember where it is as Kyungsoo is reminding him by demonstration, thumbing at the patch of skin to work the tingles out.

“Is it really gross?” Jongin asks. Jongin has a spot below his shoulder blade that’s been sort of numb since he pulled something there a few years ago; feels amazing to massage with force, makes him squirm otherwise.

Kyungsoo slows his rubbing at the question, shifting from back and forth to slow, considering circles. “Sort of?”

“Maybe it just needs the right kind of touching?” Jongin offers. Even in dim light his eyes have something of a glint, liquid with sleep.

It was a bluntly leading question, but Kyungsoo just looks sceptical. Soft breath over it felt uncomfortable, and firm touches from people dressing him up and powdering his face just sets a squirming off from deep in his gut outwards. It’s been there for as long as he can remember, but unless it’s under imminent threat he doesn’t give it much thought.

Jongin wiggles in a little closer when he gets no reply, tucking his knees back up as they were before. “Could I try? I’ll stop the second you say, promise.”

It takes a moment to weigh up curiosity to discomfort, but then, decided, Kyungsoo drops his hand away and nods. Jongin wiggles happily. He has an immediate, gnawing curiosity to explore and learn something unknown to him about Kyungsoo. But, gently, of course.

“Don’t think I won’t aim for your kidneys if you don’t,” Kyungsoo warns as he drops his shoulder back to give Jongin better access. Jongin presses his grin into Kyungsoo’s upper arm.

“I know. I’m gonna start, ok?”

It’s kind of easier with Kyungsoo facing away from him, or else Jongin would probably just want to kiss him instead. And that was against the rules of nap time, so pretty inadvisable. Jongin goes in with his fingertips first, just to best seek out the exact spot. He tells Kyungsoo so, that he has to say when he’s found it and give him a moment to try.

Kyungsoo doesn’t have to  _say_  anything when Jongin does find it, though; a twitch jerks through his leg. It’s definitely not funny at all. He does want to give Jongin a chance at this, so he squeezes his eyes shut and let’s him feel it out. “Not good,” he tells Jongin as he tries the same little circular motion Kyungsoo had used. “Not good, not good, not..”

Jongin gets the message. If he slips his fingertips to the left there’s Kyungsoo’s pulse; to the right there’s the soft, fine hairs before the rough stubble at his nape. “Sorry. Ok.” Fingers definitely don’t work, but he knows what he’s aiming for now. “Let me..”

It takes some shifting and Jongin’s elbow digging into the mattress, jogging them both, for him to get into the position he wants. Kyungsoo is patient, eyes still closed despite the amount of disruption beside him. Jongin drapes over his side, lax and warm, then wriggles up just a little closer.

“Ok,” Jongin warns softly. His nose bumps the spot – not good – and then the soft stubble on his upper lip grazes over it (not– oh).

“What are you up to?” Kyungsoo drops his voice in play threat, because Jongin is most definitely kissing him. It’s warm and nice enough – not an instant discomfort like usual. “That’s not so bad.”

Good. Jongin knew he could do this. He flicks out the tip of his tongue, and that gets an even more favourable reaction – a sound instead of words. No commentary at all, so he does it again.

Kyungsoo’s hands wind around Jongin’s arm, holding it tight against his chest and Jongin tight to his back. This is all very much against nap time rules, but the graze of Jongin’s teeth over his neck– Kyungsoo’s not totally adverse to making exceptions. "That's actually.."

Not so bad at all, Kyungsoo was going to say. But feeling spurred on by his success so far, Jongin suddenly sucks. Hard. And clutching at his sides almost falls off the bed, giggling at how deftly Kyungsoo aimed.


	19. sharing a bed for the first time - sehun/suho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous sent: Prompt: seho and sharing the bed for the first time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to canon but then this ridiculous au just struck me. ;;  
> alcohol mention

Sehun’s vacation would have been an entire disaster if it hadn’t been for a chance encounter with the only other Korean voice he’s heard in a week. It’s not exactly a vacation, even – Yixing painted a lovely picture of how Sehun could just get away for a few days; relax, practice his Chinese, even! But Sehun hasn’t been learning Cantonese, and as it turns out, business hotels don’t have pools. Or bars, even.

What they do have is an alcove with a coffee machine and a ready supply of boiling water for cup noodles, and at 1am on a Wednesday night that’s where Sehun bumped into Junmyeon. Junmyeon’s vocabulary was even less expansive than Sehun’s when he tried to ask which button he should press to get something other than milk out of the machine. And Junmyeon good as tackled him when he ventured a reply in Korean, willingly told Sehun how he’d been longing to chat with someone. And well, Sehun did have his noodles to finish. Junmyeon’s business partner had met up with friends on their second night and hasn’t been back to their room since. Sehun told him about his friend – how Yixing is trying to work himself to death and doesn’t tend to get in until Sehun is asleep, doesn’t wake until Sehun is out.

Had the circumstances been different, Sehun’s not really sure he and Junmyeon would have been the type to make friends. But in need of company and with a week of companion-less nights left to kill, this is the third he’s spent watching a movie and sharing convenience store snacks with him, and it’s very much been more out of willing than pity.

 

“Is your friend no closer to securing his deal?” Junmyeon asks when he sees Sehun’s features darkening as he reads the notification that just interrupted them. It was a pretty irrelevant heated discussion – about the motives of a background character that was last on screen twenty minutes ago. Sehun realises now they’ve stopped that he’s not really paid attention to what’s happened since. Talking with Junmyeon-- arguing with Junmyeon became far more entertaining.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” It’s not like Sehun isn’t getting used to this being their routine. There’s not really much to even go out and see in this area, though. “He really wanted me to come with him, but he’s barely spent five minutes with me. I think I’ve seen more of you than him.”

Junmyeon sort of snorts before he straightens out to give Sehun a sympathetic pout. Junmyeon’s a beer and a half ahead of Sehun; he doesn’t seem to get dozy like Sehun does, just a lot louder. It’s Saturday, so a) Sehun sees no harm in leaving Junmyeon to loosen up, and b) is none too pleased with Yixing for not even taking the weekend off to take him out somewhere.

“We could do something?” Junmyeon suggests, reading Sehun’s frown better than Yixing’s picking it up through text. “I don’t have work tomorrow. Maybe together we could manage to navigate our way around.”

Sehun smiles. “Thanks.” He’s really not sure if that’s an offer Junmyeon will remember in the morning, or will still be enthusiastic about when it’s not nearly midnight and they’re not so warm and cosy. It’s still a nice gesture, though. Junmyeon is really nice.

Sehun’s eyes are getting a little too fuzzy for focusing on Junmyeon’s tablet where it’s propped on the counter top beside Junmyeon’s bed. There’s an easy solution, and his tongue feels loose enough for it even if his head can’t decide whether that’s a good thing. “Junmyeon, I have a suggestion,” he says deliberate and careful. He preemptively starts to gather up what’s left of his share of snacks. Junmyeon raises a brow. “I think we should push the beds together.”

Oh. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Sehun says, leaning across the gap to dump his armful of snacks at the end of Junmyeon’s bed. “Get up and help.”

That’s how Sehun discovers just how much strength Junmyeon has in his upper arms, moments before he’s wiggled in close and there’s one slung around his shoulders. That hadn’t necessarily been part of the plan, but Junmyeon offered, and his shoulder does make a pretty good pillow.

Junmyeon’s feet are level with Sehun’s calves with them side by side. Sehun’s not entirely sure he had a plan at all beyond Junmyeon agreeing, but now he’s here– Junmyeon’s small and solid, gives Sehun these silly, pleased smiles every time Sehun shifts. It was a pretty good idea.

The movie, though -- the reason Sehun moved over here, that's pretty much a lost cause. Junmyeon rubs at his eyes and makes a face when a particularly loud sound comes from the tablet. “I think I missed why this is happening. Wasn’t she dead ten minutes ago?”

“I dunno. I’m falling asleep,” Sehun replies with his mouth to Junmyeon’s collar.

“Ok,” is all Junmyeon says to that, resting his cheek on top Sehun's head.


End file.
